Destruction of the Intangible
by Abarraine
Summary: one little doubt took the whole world down. Can it be rebuilt? can a person learn to trust again? to love again?
1. Profanities

Disclaimer: here's to JK Rowling.

A/N: This is just a story that's been floating around in my head for a bit. I love it. It'll be short, probably 2 or 3 chapters. I hope you can feel the depth. Tell me what you think! Happy New Year!

31 December. 2006. Abarraine.

* * *

**Destruction of the Intangible**

* * *

"It's tearing her apart, James. Can't you see? Don't you even _know _her anymore? She'd never hurt you. _Ever_. It must have been a set up-- it just _has_ to be. Why would she meddle with something so pure and fucking _right,_ James!" Sirius ranted, pacing up and down the dorm floor. The person in question, James Potter, was sitting moodily on the window seat, glaring at the ominous clouds, cursing their very existence in his woeful life.

It had all come apart, without a known catalyst. James racked his brain endlessly for a trigger to this destructive predicament. He couldn't even begin to align the circumstances that had brought about his sure demise. All he knew at that moment was pain. _Pure tragic agony_. Heart-ripping torture. His emotional status was deranged with an inconceivable amount of distress. His grieving was silent with sudden bursts of rage. He was a pitiful mess.

He never saw it coming. The way she looked into his eyes never changed, her words forever caressed his heart, he never heard any sort of stiffness or sarcasm in them; they were full of depth, and damn, they were pure. They were his; _she_ was his. Their touches were their own, how she could send shivers up his spine by only pressing her fingertips on his arm. Her dainty hands fit perfect in his own rough, large ones. The way she ran her hands through his hair as they passionately kissed—

"Damn Prongs. She's getting hell out there. People aren't kind. You're a Potter… your prestige is so bleeding high that people are without a doubt taking your side! James. She's not done a thing wrong, can't you see! It's _Lily _bleeding _Evans_ we're fucking talking about!"

James only glared at the clouds harder, trying to fight that bubble of hope rising in his chest by Sirius' persistent pleas to Lily's innocence. She was guilty. She'd done her deed. It was easier for him to think this. It made his life easier; it made giving her up easier.

He would never have been able to marry her. His lineage depended on his faithful vigilance and selflessness when picking a bride. The only quota was that she absolutely had to be a pureblood. Even the most beautiful and wisest woman would corrupt the Potter line if she was not a pureblood.

He'd already cursed and fought with his parents to inches of his life while he was dating Lily. His anger had enveloped him into a hate for his life and family that only Lily could calm. She'd understood his predicament. And she had kissed him.

She was always stronger than him. He knew she could live without him, she had for so long, but he'd surely be lost without her. It was unexplainable how much her little being brightened his life and gave him new refined hope.

* * *

Lily had a difficult past. Her mother had died of a freak blood clot when Lily was eight, casting Lily into an early state of maturity. After her mother's death her father remained incapacitated with grief sending Lily and her older sister, Petunia, to make up for his inability to take care of them. They had gone to the grocery store, made the meals, and laundered the clothes. They did many things mere children should never have to think about doing.

Their father was an emotional man, a published writer and esteemed editor for the London Times. His words were witty and grand, but he fell into a rut when his beloved wife died. His job slipped away as he had no inclination to write and their monthly bills piled up. They lived on scant amounts of food and eventually had to sell the car and move out of their generous townhouse.

It wasn't until their father met another woman that their life turned for the better. She brought a new confidence to their pathetic existence. She cooked wonderfully and ignited a flame in their father that brought all his angst into bestseller novels. They married in a small church, Lily and Petunia, and their new stepsister, Ebony, as merry flower girls.

Two and a half years after their mother's death, life was finally cheerful again. The family was whole and busy with daily life. They'd moved into the suburb and gotten a dog, Joules.

Then Lily learned she was a witch. And life slowly began to decay.

* * *

"I don't understand how you can fucking believe _Aezlin Lucic,_ Hogwarts' own bona fide whore, but not your own _girlfriend_? God James. You bleeding hypocrite!"

"Sirius, get out."

"What?" Sirius stopped mid-rant and stared, stunned at his best friend. James hadn't moved from his perch, but his jaw muscle was twitching showing he was trying to restrain his anger. Sirius couldn't believe what he was witnessing: James Potter was giving up.

He was giving up on the sweetest, grandest thing in his entire life. Maybe it wasn't obvious to James at that moment, but to Sirius and Brongea, Topher and Phaden, Lily's best friends, Lily and James had grasped the quintessence of what humans desire most in the world. Something so intangible and surrealistic was somehow grasped by the pair.

True undeniable _love_.

Their love wasn't something to be reckoned with. It was superlative, magnificent, and simple. It was like a truth in a forest of lies. It was a constant; from the very beginning it never wavered.

* * *

The fact their love was now faltering stunned many. It was as though the sky was crashing down. Everyone noticed the pain embedded in both. James was reserved, as his nature never intended. He sat in solitude and ignored even his closest friends. His eyes were glazed over as though he was walking in a dream, reliving events that were burned into his being. He snapped at people for the lightest misdemeanor. His hair was ragged, his eyes were shadowed with bags, showing the world he had not slept. His face was rough with unshaven hair. And the little he did eat was forced down his throat by viciously loyal friends.

But he wasn't the worst.

James didn't have people barbarically firing hexes in his direction.

James didn't hear scornful, callous, and cold-hearted words hissed in his direction at every corner.

James wasn't tripped, shoved, and scratch at with rage from those devoted to James' retribution.

And James didn't find howlers at breakfast demeaning his character to that of a whorish, invalid mudblood.

No. James did not have the bulk of Hogwarts' populace out for his death and destruction.

* * *

Lily's sleep was plagued with feelings of uselessness, loss, and fear. Her steps throughout the day were trepidatious. She had never feared for her life more than now. James had, without even knowing, sent all of Hogwarts on her. It was a game of loyalties. Be true to your blood and forever bask in fortune.

It wasn't the first time Lily had felt out of place, unwanted and used. She'd grown up with a stepmother who couldn't stand to look at her. Her own mother had died, leaving her behind and her father struggled with depression after all the pain he had endured.

She'd learned to grow up on her own. Never lean on anyone for anything. She only ended up being left or hated for what she truly was; a freak.

A freak in the Muggle World.

A freak in the Wizarding World.

Regular people just didn't randomly become magical. It was unheard of.

* * *

She wasn't a cold person nor did believe the world was out to get her. She didn't figure her glass was half-empty. She merely secluded herself from the pain relationships, of any form, produced. Her father was her heart. Her sisters Petunia and Ebony detested her unnaturally abnormal presence. Her mother had loved her green eyes and red hair. Her stepmother, Meredith, had valued her usefulness in chores, but once Lily sprouted magical abilities, she became terrified of her youngest redheaded stepdaughter. She locked Lily in her room to abate her fear of what Lily_ could_ do. And Meredith never had the courage or want to look at her youngest stepdaughter again. Lily was unwanted. She just didn't_ fit._

Her James. It had taken him awhile to get little Lily to open up; to talk to him. He had worked with her; he won't leave her alone in the library or at lunch. He pestered her with nominal questions; what's your favorite dessert? Have you ever thought about climbing Mount Everest? Do you like to paint? Is that your true hair color? Where were you born? Have you ever been in love? _What's got you so shy?_

He hadn't relented and in return, she wasn't a stone, she answered his questions, but never procured a conversation. People scared her with their ability to twist the truth and without knowing so, causing more pain than her heart could handle. Already it had been ripped numerous times. She wasn't sure she had enough heart left to be torn again.

But somehow, she made herself impermeable. Cherishing as much of her remaining pride and heart as she could. She always did. She found that inner core of strength.

* * *

He told her it was over. That they were through, some things were just not meant to be after all. In fact, if she hadn't been so dependent, so set on using everyone around her, if she hadn't used her atrocious ability of persuasion and gullibility to play puppet master, they may actually have had a chance.

He told her she didn't deserve a thing she had. That he had taken pity on her from the start, she was a hopelessly submissive girl with hardly a personality. He didn't understand what he had seen in her. Why he had spent so much time protecting her and defending her. He'd wasted precious time. His valued breath.

He neglected how over the time she'd spent with James, she'd opened up, become an extraordinarily beautiful girl with passion and spirit. He disregarded the part where her eyes lit up with joy instead of pain, how her voice was forever heard in conversations and that Lily Evans, was head girl and a strong, respectable personality in Hogwarts. He only spoke of what he knew would bring her the most pain; and he drug up the past.

He fucking didn't care that every word he breathed tore into her with more force and damage than any other circumstance in her past. It rivaled the pain she felt watching her mother die on the living room floor.

And yet, as James watched the love of his life crumble in his grasp, he continued on. His eyes burned with rage at the hidden purpose of his abuse. He couldn't _have_ Lily Evans.

And if he couldn't have Lily Evans, then he damn well didn't want Lily Evans trying to get him back. Fighting for him like he knew she would. As she always had. He would be ostracized, banished from his family, his life. Was she worth it? His parents knew she wasn't, after all, she was a mudblood. He continued to defile her with his tongue, the bitter, cruel words fell from his lips like poison.

He had to hate Lily Evans, because she wasn't good enough for him.

Her eyes flooded with tears, the dam had burst with him standing there, hands on her shoulders yelling profanities in her face; she broke. The shattering of her heart would haunt the halls of Hogwarts for years to come. Her terrified emerald eyes stared powerfully back into his hazel orbs pleading with him. He ranted. The moon hid its face in fear. He raved. The wind howled through the desolate trees. She shivered. And the sky fell.

Because Lily Evans was _more _than good enough for James Potter.

* * *

so... what do you think? 


	2. When Stars Collide

Disclaimer: characters and world JK Rowling.

A/N: I used some lyrics by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus -- Angel's Cry and Face Down. Amazing songs. I hope you enjoy this. There is at least ONE more chapter.

Abarraine. 16 January. 2007. (my little brother's 8th birthday!!)

* * *

**When Stars Collide **

* * *

Because Lily Evans was _more_ than good enough for James Potter.

_A pebble in the water makes a ripple effect_

She didn't leave because of him. She didn't_ flee_. Hell, her life was not led by the one, egotistic James Potter; she was her own person- strong enough to never lean on someone. She didn't walk through the halls anymore relying on his presence to protect her. She didn't need his hand entangled sweetly in her own to reassure her of his being. She didn't need his voice to lull her to sleep on dreamy nights. She didn't need his scent to overwhelm her to prove that he was near; forever near to her. She didn't need his words, which in themselves held such overpowering beauty and depth. She didn't need his euphoric energy throughout the day to remind her of all the cheer and goodness in the world. She didn't need _him_.

Theoretically she didn't need him.  
Credibly she didn't need him.  
Undoubtably she didn't need him.  
Unquestionably she didn't need him.  
Clearly she didn't_ need _him.

But in all obviousness that she was trying harder than bleeding hell to deny, she _did_ need him.

She needed him.

The resounding thought would not relent. It pulsed through her like blood through the heart. Her heart, it seemed was incapable of pumping, it was so tattered and broken. Every breath she took, every beat that resonated through her crest was sharp and painful. She couldn't move from the grief. She couldn't hold herself steady because of the grief. Was it really possible to die from a broken heart? Lily was sure she was soon to find out.

Can't you see I'm dying here, a shot of broken heart that is chased with fear?

The landscape slid past the window like a frosty blur. Never did she catch a single tangible object in the gliding scenery. It was like a living mist that the train barreled through. She wished to see the single blades of winter wheat and the ever-elusive snowflakes. But she was moving all too fast to see such things. She couldn't tell the conductor to slow down so she could make out the intricacies of a snowflake. She couldn't grade a blade of wheat and twirl in between her fingers.

She was moving at an all too rapid pace: metaphorically and realistically.

No, Lily Evans refused to believe that she left Hogwarts because of James Potter. In fact, she hardly had to convince herself otherwise because the proof of her departure was in her hands. A single sheet of lined paper lay delicately between her chilled fingers. Its contents marred her heart deeper than the fresh wounds of James Potter. Her father was dying.

_My skies are turning gray._

Meredith had taken the time to inform her of his most recent developments. She had briefly stated that the cancer was spreading--at too far a rate to save. She had asked that Lily come quickly, that her father's last wish was to see his daughter. Lily could sense her resentment. As Meredith's 'beloved' husband died slowly in a white, bleached hospital room, she agonized over his comfort, which food he wanted, getting him situated. But all her efforts were in vain, for he only called out for Lily.

He never noticed Meredith's presence, but cried out continuously for his daughter.

Lily traveled that lonely train to say goodbye. She was tired of saying goodbye. She was tired to losing people. It was hard for her to remember the good in her life as she looked out the misty windows. The white aura that was portrayed in the landscape resembled Heaven—a place she desperately wanted to be.

Maybe it was karma or just a long, horrendous phase in her life that was these past ten years. Faintly noticing the outline of the mountains in the distance, Lily's mind flowed past the years. Her eyes grinned as she recalled her mother's embrace, her smell, her chocolate chip cookies… but, Lily frowned, she could not remember her mother's face.

Her heart stopped.

As hard as she try, Lily could not pull the image of her mother from her memory. She knew her mum had green eyes, "Lily, your eyes shine so bright today, they remind me of your mum, you're her beautiful daughter…" her father would recite those words every time she came home. "You remind me of your mum…you're her beautiful daughter…".

Who would repeat those grounding words? Who would remind her of all the long lost love that she had once held in her hands? Who would remind her of her family, her mum, and soon, who would remind her of her dad. Did she have the capacity to live without the strength of her father? … without James beside her?

James had given her up, and it seemed without a backward glance as well. And now, not even a week later, so was her father.

_Face down in the dirt she says "this doesn't hurt"_

Lily couldn't live with all this angst. This loneliness. Depression. It had never been her nature to frown, to dwell on things that hurt. She had resilience built up against all the tragedies that had come, this was her father's favorite trait about his youngest daughter. She never wanted to be the lonely girl in the corner. The one who's world was gray and ashen. She refused to live such a life. Her father had told her it was pathetic, weak, and angering to her mother to live in such sadness.

She was resigned to overcome the pain. To take joy in the sun's rays even if that meant living in the shadows of pain at times. She would mourn, she would grieve, but she would be all the stronger because of it.

But could she do it? Could she lose all the love in her life and still be able to go on? Was her heart really that enduring?

Lily wanted to cry out in despair. She needed to unleash her utterly copious wealth of emotions. It seemed that was all she did lately though, crawling into a dark alcove in early hours of the morning and just letting the dam break. She'd gaze at the moon, or the clouds that covered the glowing face and spill her soul to the stars. But the moon didn't consol her; only smiled innocently on her suffering. Every night led her to the same conclusion, against her will, against her might, against her better judgment, she knew she needed James to save her from this anguish.

It was tearing her apart.

She didn't understand how James could think that she had betrayed him. That she had strung him along all the while being unfaithful to him with other men. That she had used her siren-like persona to capture his heart then savagely play with it.

_Intentions that were pure have turned obscure  
seconds into hours, minutes into years._

Did he really think she had been promiscuous?

Did he think she was unfaithful, unchaste? Capable of harbouring such vicious indifference to his love? Did be sincerely believe she was willing to_ sell _herself for mere money? _money_.

Was it even possible?

Plausible?

Sure she was not the richest girl in the school. Sure her father is sick and income low. But she was not a whore. She don't _need_ money because she didn't _need _things.

She has—_had _James, her family, her friends. And those were all the tangible things she needed.

It broke her heart all the more to know that _no_, James had no reason at all to disbelieve her innocence. It would have been radical to not believe her. She had never shown anything as affront and sexual as that. She was a virgin. Her life was still, apart from all her sufferings, innocent. She knew something else was interfering; someone else? She knew James had always thought more of her than _anyone_ else. He would have taken her side against the world if need be. He had claimed she was his passion for hell's sake. His heart was in her hands. His fucking heart was in _her_ hands. She couldn't count the number of times he had told her she was the one. His only.

_You cry alone and then he swears he loves you_

So, why now did he choose to forget her, to throw her to the wolves? To bleeding drop her like trash. Apparently she was the trash everyone muttered she was and he had finally come to his damned pureblood sense. The air of 'good riddance' radiated of his being.

He'd pushed her to the ground. Foul under his touch. He'd dug is heels into the dirt and turned his back on her.

It was tearing her apart.

_Do you feel like a man when you push her around?  
Do you feel better now as she falls to the ground?_

Lily stumbled awake. The train was still moving and the sun had at some point broken through the barrier of ominous clouds and was now shining brightly in her eyes causing her green orbs to squint and divert her gaze.

She'd left Hogwarts. For good? She did not know. She was treading waters of a different nature. Her will was her own. Meredith would likely send her out on the streets. Lily would never afford Hogwarts. She was nearly of age in the Muggle world.

Was it time to leave the past behind? To brush it all away? To leave him?

_Angel's cry when stars collide._

Only time, elusive, taunting time could tell.

_Well, I'll tell you my friend, one day this world's going to end  
As your lies crumble down, a new life she has found._

* * *

... so? any good? 


	3. Christmas Despair

Disclaimer: characters and world: JK Rowling. Story line and words: mine.

A/N: hello all, I KNOW this has been way too long in coming, I know, 10 months. I'm sorry! I finished the 7th book just the other day and the need to write again overwhelmed me, needless to say, my classes are suffering since i've been neglecting them. I hope you enjoy this chapter, there's more to come. Thanks for being so patient! Abarraine.

Abarraine. 16 October. 2007. (my 8th month annivesary with B. Schmidt-- I love you!! (even tho you will never read this ;))

* * *

**Christmas Despair**

* * *

It was like watching a dog get kicked repeatedly; yelping with its tail between its legs, whining and crying out in anguish and fear, its eyes holding all the pain and cruelty for the world to see. But the dog, however helpless it was, couldn't flee, couldn't seek refuge because the assaulter was its refuge.

The pain was all too evident. Everyone noticed it, even after she left. People thought he would liven up some, cheer up now that she had gone. He had won right? Wasn't that how things worked. James had driven her out of Hogwarts, he was more powerful, more respected. But now, when the waves had crashed upon the shore and the sun had come from behind the dark clouds, things in Hogwarts weren't better. The anguish still lingered over the heads of all, spawned by the infamous James Potter.

He was like the poor, mangled canine, James Potter. His eyes were sunken from lack of sleep; his skin was swallow from poor nutrition and little sunlight. His academics dropped, he barely had the motivation to attend class, let alone do the trivial homework. He had walked into a trap, a farce. He had pushed himself to believe what the world knew: that blood was thicker than water, that he couldn't possibly be happy with anyone less than his standard. He was controlled by the politics of his birth. And by God, he had tried to deny it, however in the end, it was unquestionable as to where is alliance lay. He had failed himself, but claimed victory for the Potter name.

But to what price?

For he had failed the only thing in his entire life that had given him a fresh hope: Lily.

For all he knew, she could be dead. Bludgeoned to death by one of his faithful followers. She was a threat to his family – no one needed to openly tell him that. But it was all too evident in the faces of the prestigious.

He had screwed up his life, with one little doubt.

Hadn't the world been raised on doubt? Where would civilization be if they hadn't seen through the doubt? What gave him the right to succumb to it?

James Potter lay in his bed, curtains tightly shut and not making a sound. Silent tears streamed down his face, his thick lashes tickled his cheek as he fluttered in and out of memory. His hands gripped the pillowcase and his hair in a routine aggression. His anger had fled and he was only left with hopelessness. As the curtains remained impermeable to the moonlight, so did his heart to happiness. He breathed in dead, cold air and wrestled with releasing it again. He chocked silently on his shed tears and uneven breathing. But he was silent. He held in his fury and kept his hurt in during those quiet, listless nights. His friends knew of his pain, but what could they do when James never spoke, never looked in their eyes, never came in contact with them anymore. He has ostracized himself from everything that made him James Potter.

All because of one little doubt.

He cursed himself repeatedly for letting his pride get in the way of her apologies – no, it had made him blind to her purity, to how trustworthy she was. The tears stung anew and he twisted in his somber tomb to smash his head into the feather pillow once more, only to release a hiccup of a sob that jerked Sirius from his own restless slumber.

Sirius always slept with his curtains open, relishing the night air that flowed through the open window. He never minded that his privacy was inhibited; he was a frank, open man with little doubts for himself. Or at least that's what he hoped emanated from his being. Everyone had a story and Sirius wasn't to be left out. James had his lineage issues as he was born to one of the wealthiest families in Europe, Remus had monthly struggles that his friends had taken to making a bit easier, still the pain was etched deeply in his face, his arms, and his eyes every waking day of his life. Peter was a squat little man, clumsy and petulant. He was too systematic and struggled with finding his own.

Sirius' issues arose with his family, as was the norm with most people. He was a white sheep, let's say, in a mass of black. His facial features and tendencies echoed those of this brother, mother, and relatives. He had sleek black hair and a slender nose. His eyes were a coal black, tinged with rays of dark blue. However his eyes, those coal orbs, did not send a cold gaze out to the world, one that lacked true, heartfelt emotion. No, he did not carry the apathetic leer that was a trademark of the Black name; rather they held warmth and sympathy, pity and feeling.

As he stared at the closed crimson curtains surrounding James' bed, he could feel his gut stirring, his chest tightening as his best friend, _his brother_, sobbed into his pillow. "Men are men, they do not express feeling". He knew that was total bullocks, but also knew that the prestigious did not show emotion. That James had been taught, lectured, and controlled for years to never show pain or misery; never to cry.

It was a sight, or rather a sound, that stayed with Sirius his entire life. Watching the moonlight spray across the curtains to James' secure barrow. But what could he do but stare and listen to the heart-wrenching sobs that seemed to faintly echo through out the room. To confront the matter would surely humiliate James, but it was all too worth it.

Lily was gone. Gone. She'd left the refuge that was home to him. He could see no sense in it. He knew that the populace of Hogwarts had been hard on her, but he never believed that she would give up so damn easily. She was stronger than anyone he'd ever known. Of course, when you come from a background such as Sirius' you seem to mesh your troubles into the backdrop and envy others. Yet he knew pain, and he knew people who knew pain. And she was walking through a world of pain.

James had once stripped her eyes of their fear, of her agony and torment. He had brought the witty Lily Evans to light and the battered Lily Evans was left to sit in a far corner, hopefully never to be revisited. He had taken a somber, acting girl and showed her the world. The world that had only kept her in it's shadows, now she saw the flowers in bloom, the sun's tickling rays that could grace her auburn head and turn her nose to freckles. She giggled and laughed, she smiled and her eyes were happy. She was happy. For the first time since she was a little girl she knew happiness. The warmth in her belly and heart was foreign but delightful, addicting and damn, so _right_.

Everyone knew it. Knew the transformation and the light that radiated off of Lily shown ten fold in James. With Lily by his side, his smile was forever lopsided on his chiseled face and his contentment for life was forever a vibrant display of his character. He was cheerful, somewhat behaved, spectacular and brilliant. Sure, James had always been a prized child, but now his abilities and personality had taken a sharp turn towards the better. The world, as he had come from was full of gay parties and frivolous galleons. James' dreams were short-lived as most came true. He had always been a happy child.

However one day, James learned of the legacy, the true commitment that belonged with such fortune. He undoubtedly knew all along, but it did not faze him, because he had not found her yet.

It was Christmas Eve; the Potters were entertaining their usual pompous guests at the annual Potter Christmas Promenade. The champagne was exceptional and the gowns were magnificent. The candlelight floated above head with the hollies and mistletoe. Cherubs flew plucking their instruments and presenting guests with small trinkets. The ham was scrumptious and the escargot impeccable. The music was lulling and yet alluring. It was tantalizing and ignited passion in all those that lent it an ear. The ballroom was crowed as hundreds of couples graced the marble floor, their shoes scuffing the creamy enamel, and then miraculously disappearing as a charm took care of the damage. The wreaths of garland and drapes of green and red flowed together in what could have been a shimmering stream of beauty.

It was a typical night. The moon was fading as thick clouds quickly swept over it, promising a romantic snowfall. It seemed paradoxical that such a grand night would bring about such despair.

Lily was attending the Promenade for the first time. Her dress was modest and elegant, as she would meet the Potters for the first time, as well. She wore her hair down, classic of her humble personality, yet in her attempts to draw less attention to herself, she had brought more. Her beautiful auburn curls were the envy of many females who had spent hours and precious galleons perming their own locks with charms and curlers. Her beauty was earthen and breathtaking. If James had not already been in love with this auburn siren, he would have been able to label this night,_the night_ he fell in love.

As it was, the night started wonderfully with a glass of champagne and crackers, a waltz here and there and several touching smiles. However as the night led on, James found his parents, Julian and Éa, to introduce his redheaded love.

Their smiles were fake, their enthusiasm stringent, and conversation forced. They knew Lily was a Muggleborn, only a mere bump in their smooth lives. She was the threat of humiliation and the downfall of the Potter name. She was a simple fancy that they _knew_ James would out grow. They tried to show interest in Lily and at first forced a few monotone sentences, but their attention was focused on James. They saw the way he looked at Lily with eyes bright that overflowed with abundant happiness.

They drew focused on this Lily, the one James desired, and proceeded in making a travesty of her. She stuttered a bit as they became more insightful in the conversation by teasing around the topic of her and James' relationship, demeaning it to a mere childish acquaintance. They tiptoed around her bloodline and made whimsical remarks that were nothing more than degrading. Lily tried to keep her head high, but she trembled slightly under their petulant gaze. As the Potters, deluded her very integrity, and all with words spoken in a saccharine tone. They attacked her with contempt that was hidden behind their façade of magical elitism.

James watched, horrified, as Lily struggled to recognize the bashing of her existence and cover it up as though they were merely discussing a patch to rain, sprinkling over the tender earth. James was rooted to the spot, torn between undermining his parents and undoubtedly causing a scene or watching his Lily suffer under the would-be tender gaze of parents. He could see her slender hands clenched white on the glass of champagne in her hand and the confusion and humiliation steal the sparkle in her emerald eyes; however, her stance and mannerisms were confident and controlled. But before he could finally intervene, the sugary interrogation was over. His parents focused their attention on a guest over Lily's shoulder and glided away from the trembling redhead without so much as a "wonderful to finally meet you, dear".

He understood the reason behind his parents' rudeness. He knew that they only did it to protect their own name, to ensure the desired breeding of the Potter line. But to James, all of that was nonsense, utterly and completely irrelevant to his life. Lineage was a thing he easily dismissed. He hardly considered such things during his sixteen years, but here it was, the blatant disrespect for Lily was more than a slap in the face; it was a blazing yellow vulgar sign that showed James that his opinions and desires were worthless. He had no will of his own and he knew that the romantic aspect of his life would never have the possibility for change. And he felt damned, as if his dreams were too miniscule to even be noticed.

How was it that when he wanted anything, a trip to Australia, the newest, most expensive broom on the market or box seats at the world cup, he got it, but when it came to something of immense importance to him and his future, what he wanted wasn't even calculated into the equation.

There he stood that Christmas Eve, gazing off into the streaming red and green banners, the music luring all around him, and Lily, standing a meter away, looking down at her feet, lost. She was lost and shuffled in the mix.

His eyes blurred with unshed tears as he gazed hard at a dancing couple in the distance, the woman was swaying in the man's arms and she smiled serenely as he whispered surely sweet nothings in her ear. _They_ were peaceful, _they_ were blessed, and_ they _had the life he dreamed of. One where he wasn't a string puppet, dancing to the beat of another's drum. His gaze was blurred by red as he swam in and out of desires and anger. It wasn't under she touched his arm that he looked down and noticed her standing there, pathetically small and out of place. He saw it now, how ordinary she was. How sincere and humble of an air she portrayed.

And that humbleness, that sweet delicacy was what made him kiss her wholeheartedly under the floating cherubs and mistletoe. The kiss that he held her petite form close to him in the midst of hundreds of magical elite, of the ministry's finest, his best friends, and above all, in front of his irate, shocked parents.

Reality flooded back and hit James full force in the chest as he thought of that kiss, of the night that he had announced (with actions) that he was serious about Lilea Kensley Evans. He choked on his sob as he turned, once more in his bed to shove his tear-swollen face in the pillow. The nights were like this; tainted with memories and the utter depression that he had tried to hold at bay all day emerged in full. They were unforgiving and sleepless.

His head throbbed as he pictured her sweet face, smiling up at him. Her full lips forming the words "I love you, James", and then her delicate arms looping around his waist as she rest her head on his chest. The pressure of her touch felt so real he ripped open his eyes, hoping above all that she was there. The darkness met his gaze, his sheets were twisted and ruffled, but he was the only one in his bed. He had no more comforts in his life, no more sweet treasures. He had forsaken it all. He had turned into his father. No, maybe he had finally rendered some common sense and let the dream of him and Lily fly out the window, hopefully never to return.

He tried to tell himself that he didn't need her; he was back to this again. If he didn't need her so much, why in God's name did he still have to repeat that phrase, 'I don't need Lily, she's nothing but a manipulative, poor muggleborn'. He knew it was nonsense to repeat the lie, to deny himself the only true happiness that he had found in this foul world.

As much as the truth threatened to envelope his thoughts, he cast it aside. He knew Lily was the one for him, he knew she had never laid a hand against him, and most of all, he knew she was in more pain than he could ever be. But he was a chicken, a toser and an arse who wouldn't go against authority. He was the ultimate, cocky, rambunctious conformist, the one who wore their tie perfectly in every class, then in solitude let out his true self. He was uptight and stressed, he had a fetish with ironing, he needed things to be in order… but with a jolt, he sat up again, throwing his covers off in the realization that in all the while he had been with Lily he hadn't ironed one thing. He hadn't worn a tie straight in months, it was always lopsided and feverishly put on as he knew he no longer had to impress anyone. He wasn't uptight and let simple mistakes slide, he even said the word "ain't" on occasion to Lily's glee. Sirius had even mentioned the change and congratulated Lily in her success.

She made him better. And he knew that by appeasing his parents, _he_ would never be happy. He would never be the true James Isaac Potter.

That left him with only one thing to do: find Lily Evans.

Find her and beg her to come back to him, to take him back and love him forever.

The bed was suffocating that night as he lay there, waiting for the beams to illuminate his crimson curtains. He waited for the first light to get the hell out of Hogwarts and onto the Hogwarts Express to find her.

The next morning, as Sirius rummaged through his drawer for a clean white shirt and yelled at James to "get your scrawny arse out of bed!" he realized that there were no sounds at all coming from James' bed. He was gone.

A scrap of parchment was laid peacefully on his ruffled pillow: "I've got to find her. Be back soon."

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comments, concerns? reviews would be spectacular, thanks!

Abarraine.


	4. Hallelujah

Disclaimer: characters and world: JK Rowling. Story line and words: mine.

A/N: hello all, I KNOW this has been way too long in coming, and no words can fill the longing you have in your heart for James and Lily... blah blah. I hope you enjoy this chapter, there's more to come. Thanks for being so patient! Abarraine.

Abarraine. 16 October. 2007. revamped 2009.

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**Hallelujah

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**

It's like a storybook, you know? Where dragons and ogres walk amongst the living. The living, isn't that a pleasant group? Vampires, werewolves, hags, sirens, warlocks, giants, leprechauns. Really though, the living, they aren't so much better than a flesh eating dragon. In fact, if we grouped humans in a large clump, I'd wager that they are much more frightening than any coven of vampires or ravenous dragons.

The living, the human, the dead.

I'm stuck in a conundrum of where I should go. Of who I should call my own.

As I look out the train window at the flying landscape, I'm coming to a sudden realization that scares the hell out of me. Perhaps I didn't want to join anyone's side; perhaps I would rather be nomadic and lean on myself.

My final breath is gone. My final urge to succeed and pull through for my mother – and now my father has disappeared without so much as a 'hold tight!' warning.

I feel empty and its odd.

My stomach growls, but I find no urge to feed it. Everything tastes like dirt. Especially those disgusting egg sandwiches we had at the wake yesterday. What was Meredith thinking? Egg salad for an appetizer? Dad would have gone barking mad. I suppose we needed to use up those cartons of eggs somehow. Dad wouldn't be around any longer to make omelets on Sunday morning. Perhaps she was right, Egg salad was just fine.

I looked at my sister yesterday, for perhaps the first real time in years. She was pretty, even if her outfit was black and she still resembles a horse. Vernon held her elbow as they glanced at Dad's coffin. I saw my father in Petunia and I wanted to get closer to her so that I could stare into her eyes and see Dad again. But she turned away too fast. Really, she left without so much as grabbing an egg salad sandwich for herself.

She's always been flighty. Whereas I tend to hold on and wait it out. I'm the stubborn one. I'm surprised that she hasn't gotten cold feet with Vernon yet, considering how commitment scares her more than my being a witch. There must be something awfully special about Vernon.

I'm not even sure where my reasoning has gone. How could I even dream that Vernon had an admirable quality? It seems though, through all the developments of the last few weeks, I am left with nothing but cold, hard logic. Alas, Vernon must possess something that holds my sister to him. Perhaps he's warm at night. Perhaps he can look her in the eyes and stop the twitchy terror that hides behind them.

Petunia grew up with me. We both experienced Mom's death. She was older so she called the police while I cradled Mom in my arms. We both have the scar of death disfiguring our souls. She turned flighty and terrified of ever holding something permanent. You can see it in her eyes.

But, when I held Mom, I held her with white fingers and a face of stone. I had held her head to my little chest and rocked her back and forth, the officers had to pry her out of my grip.

I hold on. I stay in a stupor and hold on. Its what I do.

I wish I were more like Petunia. She can fill her day with meaningless and petulant activities and push down her anxieties. She lets go.

I always seemed to be locked in my grief. I can still feel Mom in my hands.

Perhaps its time I let go.

It was an odd thing, yesterday was. To be sitting in my living room, staring at the frayed rug and thinking of Mom when Dad was the most recent casualty. I should have been pouring over his casket and weeping like I did with Mom. I couldn't even find my bearings.

"_Ruby, can you tell me what day is it?" _My voice hadn't sounded as though it emerged from me, but rather hovered in the air, tainting the still quiet of the dark room. Ruby was my neighbor; we'd lived next to her for eons. She'd lived in the house across the street long before we moved in, fifteen years ago. She was a sweet old lady, a retired teacher and an amazing baker. She had grandchildren, a son my age whom I played football with on summer evenings. Ruby and I had a beautiful relationship. She would make me sweet lemonade and discuss novels on sunny afternoons. I would often borrow her hammock and make my way through Tolkein or Virginia Woolf.

"_The 24__th__ of December, dear."_ Ruby had looked me over in a grandmother way and rose out of her seat to join me on the couch. Her strong arms circled around my waist and pulled me to her side. She smelled like old magazines and comet. She put her chin on my head and rocked me. I'm not sure how long I stayed in Ruby's arms or what transpired during the time she claimed me as her granbaby, but I felt a bit of me come back to life. I could take deeper breaths and my pulse slowed. We sat huddled on my old couch – a couch that has seen too many deaths - and wasted away the 24th of December.

But now, Christmas day, despite the hope I had felt in Ruby's arms, I feel as though something in me seems to have died. I just sit lately.

I still sit unmoving, not dozing, not shifting, on this train taking me, somewhere. I never paid much attention to the destination when I bought the ticket. I feel like a walking zombie. The 'Happy Christmases' and jolly carols only seem fuzzy in my ears. I'm sure I looked unruly and a fright. I had lain in bed all last night, strumming my fingers over the ruffles on my pillow. The moon had come into view slowly through my window and I watched it wane.

I'm terrified. I don't think my heart has stopped its skipping beat since, well, since James yelled profanities in my face just a few days ago. Or was it a few days? I had lost all consciousness of time and movement. Considering mine had ceased.

At least, I stutter out a lone laugh,_ at least_ I've ceased time on Christmas.

_Halleluiah ripped through my veins, heard the hammer drop, my blood in the rain_

_I said Halleluiah, Halleluiah.

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_

_These days, a little bit longer than the last_

_And all of your ways, a little bit stronger than the past_

James slammed the milk carton onto the counter, thoroughly annoyed. He'd done it again. Left the empty carton in the fridge, rotting away and leaving an awful odor. And now, what was he supposed to do? Drink his coffee black? It would have been considerate of him to at least tell him that the milk was gone. No, not in the year that they had become flat mates had he been willing to spend a knut on the groceries. Today was the day that he would tell him flat out – 'pay up or get out'. What a nuisance best friends were.

So to the black coffee he must go.

The Daily Prophet was his only form of entertainment tonight. Sirius was out on yet another date with that lark, Sera or Susan… something 'S'. It didn't quite matter, none of them ever stayed long.

James idly flipped through the paper, the front page was doing an exclusive article on the new minister—nothing James found to be remotely interesting – considering it was his article. He'd been getting inches on the front page of the Prophet for a good year now, the novelty of seeing his name, in bold, had worn off slightly. Besides the article on the minister was so regulated with rules that it was hardly what he considered decent writing.

He managed to flip through the newspaper and skim it with satisfaction. Just another lovely week in the wizarding world. Sometimes he was quite glad that the ministry wouldn't allow him to write about the most recent Death Eater casualty, the populace didn't need something depressing to read, they knew, personally, all about the war.

Yet, at the same time, he still felt that it needed to be proclaimed. The world needed to know of the havoc and terror He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was really inflicting upon the lives of muggleborns and the like. Briefly, James wondered about a certain muggleborn he had been fond of… he quickly changed his line of thoughts; it was just still too painful.

The Prophet was more or less a failure at entertaining him. So he moved on to cleaning up the flat. Sirius had goaded him into hosting a man's night: poker, liquor, racy talk of women, and of course, his infallible friends.

Sirius was worried about him. James knew this, but somehow James always seemed to pass it off as simple friendship.

What James refused to think about was how unhealthy his life had become, and thanks to Sirius – he was lucky to still be alive. It had been a close call a few times.

The closest, James remembered were those torturous months after he and Lily had broken up. How he had gone in search of his redheaded ex and found no trace of her. He hadn't slept. He hardly ate. He had waned away into a shell of what he used to be. He worried constantly about Lily and where she could be – if she was even still breathing as he struggled to do everyday.

Sirius had been the one to force him to eat and continue his classes enough to graduate. But James refused to eat in the Great Hall and see, everyday, Lily's empty seat next to him. It was like a memorial, he had lashed out the last time he set foot in there as some lark of a girl had tried to fill _Lily's_ seat and berate him with smiles and flirtatious lips. He had vowed never to go back.

James went from top of the world to almost 6-feet-under after his break up with Lily. He had yelled at her and he saw now, that she was never anything but innocent – a mere victim to the rage of rich, elite girls. Girls he had never had eyes for.

She wasn't just a victim she was already wounded when James had taken it upon himself to destroy their relationship. In retrospect, he had wanted her to leave him, to be mad enough at him to feel as though she was wasting her life being with him. That way, it wouldn't hurt _her _so much. But fuck, it hurt him.

When he had gone in search for Lily, he had been cocky enough to assume that she had fled because of him. He felt confident enough that he could easily win her back into his arms, talk her down. But upon arriving at her house hours later he had met her stepmother, Meredith, and been informed about her father's untimely death.

Upon further questioning, Meredith had told James that Lily had left, took her suitcases and what little belongings she had and left. What Meredith didn't tell James was that she forced Lily to leave, and stripped Lily of the last 'family' she had ever known.

James searched every hotel in the area, but had turned up empty handed. Lily seemed to have vanished. And she was still missing to this very day – a year and a half later.

Unwillingly, James replayed their last few days together over and over in his mind. He saw the pain he had caused her and the pain that now lingered in every bone of his body.

He hardly ever left the apartment he and Sirius had started renting a year ago – that July after their seventh year. He had gotten a job with the Daily Prophet and worked mostly from home. Civilization wasn't a concern of his anymore. He had found that any company, besides Sirius, Remus, and Peter, was just a nuisance to him.

He loathed seeing Lily's old friends, but they had continued to turn up wherever he went. One reason he never seemed to leave the flat. He knew that he'd see Bronwen on his way to the grocery store to get more milk, and cursed Sirius, knowing it was his plan behind finishing off the last of the milk.

James hadn't set foot outside the flat in about two weeks. And personally, he was fine with it. Sirius, however was not.

In fact, there was definite tension between him and Sirius lately. Or rather, since Lily had left.

Sirius had been beside James the whole while, keeping James alive and up beat. He had supported James when no one else seemed to understand the impact Lily had had on his life. Everyone saw the ruse – Lily's proclaimed cheating – as a clever way to bring James back into the good light of the Wizarding world. He had gained pity from society after dating a deceitful muggleborn and his parents had welcomed him home with open arms.

Arms he had yet to embrace.

The Wizarding world, James knew, would never accept Lily. But Lily had been _his_ world. He knew that he had to choose one. The Wizarding World and the life he had known, or Lily.

They could never be synonymous.

He had arguments with Sirius over justifying why he should leave Lily: she would be safer without him. Their society wasn't kind to muggleborns such as Lily – no matter how angelic and beautiful. She would never be able to live in peace. She'd always be dodging sneers and whispered rumors. She'd never be safe from curses – words or wands.

He believed that she'd never be happy with him in a world that hated her so. Therefore, against his real will and Sirius', he had let Lily go. Let her find a life that she loved and loved her back. It was his duty. If he were to protect her – he had to let her go.

But both he and Sirius knew that that was a load of bullocks. Lily had never been happier than when she was in James' arms.

As James was deeply entrenched in his thoughts, cleaning the cigar burns out of the leather couch, he became quite aware of a neurotic _tap, tap, tap_ on the kitchen window.

'_Who in Merlin's name sends post on a Saturday night_?' James angrily wondered as he was ripped out of his thoughts of his-would-have-been Lily-filled life. He opened the window and grabbed the post, relieving the messenger owl of its load. It took off without a hoot.

Written in familiar handwriting, was Sirius' name. James left the letter on the table; Sirius would find it in the morning.

Hours later, as James flipped through his notes for his next major article and listening to the WWR, he couldn't help but feel preoccupied with the familiarity that that letter held. It was just past midnight and James knew that if Sirius were to come home, it wouldn't be for another few hours.

Disgusting himself, James reached toward the letter and yanked it out of its muggle envelope. Terror filled his eyes as the signature leapt into view.

Dizziness and perhaps a near heart attack stopped him from reading the letter. He merely sat, still as stone, as the tears drained from his eyes.

**Love always, **

**Lil****y.**

_Hallelujah came like a train _

_When all is lost _

_All is left to gain

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An: I'm almost done with finals, one last essay test -- then i can work on another enjoyable chapter. I hope you feel the emotion that I do when i write this. thanks for the reviews. _


	5. Revival and Rejection

I don't own anything but the words.

AN: A short update to keep you interested. Please review!!

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chapter 5: Revival and Rejection: 12 May 2009. Abarraine.

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"Thank you, I really appreciate all your help." Lily twirled the key ring around her fingers, a smile sketched onto her pale face. Her eyes were glued to the shiny new keys swinging in her grasp. Freedom never felt so good, so attainable.

New cars – used cars. A car in general was at her beck and call. She'd worked three jobs 'round the clock for a year to build a savings. Her father and mother had left her enough of an inheritance to purchase a comfortable flat rather than paying endless rent each month, but she had dreamed and wished for the day that she would have a car. Apparation never gave you the time to watch fields, flowers and streams pass by. Cars were cathartic. Apparation was more like a twist to the bowels and a brain freeze. No, now she had the car, the means of leisure travel. Oh sweet joy.

Finally she could flee the city, travel to the countryside and smell the sweet air. Her credit was good, her income was stable and now she had a way to occupy her time – travel the British Isles in style.

She could finally pay Sirius back for helping her out those first rough months after her father had died and J- _he_ had given her up. Lily even dabbled with the thought of going back to school, attend university and get a teaching degree. She'd been making a reasonable amount waitressing and working at the local coffee shop. But her biggest income came from tutoring children, all things like mathematics, physics, English, grammar and every now and then a bit of charms and potion brewing.

She couldn't quite leave her past behind her. She wasn't about to give up everything that had made her, _her. _ Let's face it, Lily Evans was never a muggle nor was she ever a witch. She was unique and, well – just finally beginning to understand the meaning of that.

She sure as hell wasn't ready to embrace it but she didn't have the strength to leave it behind.

Something kept her mind hanging in the tedious balance of magical and electronic. She couldn't put a finger on it, but she knew it was valuable, dangerous and much too fragile. She'd sit for hours contemplating her life and its trials only to find that her mind would refuse to acknowledge it. She'd drift to the tele or what the old lady down the lane had told her over coffee. She'd think of the brown eyes down at the coffee shop and the tip he had left yesterday. Her mind simply refused to recognize her tragic past – what just a year ago now felt like a century.

The ignition flared as she started her car and put it into drive. She reversed with ease and hit the radio button. Soft music filled her car and she grinned. Life really could bounce back and she wouldn't even feel guilty to be proud of all her efforts – and improvements. Her independence had never felt so strong and wonderful as it did today, her foot on the pedal and all her cares flying out the window; neglected, abused and forgotten.

Lily pulled into her parking spot. Locked her new baby blue car and headed up the flight of stairs to her flat. She dug out her apartment keys and made a mental note to put her car keys on her house ring. She was so occupied she missed the gentleman, lazily leaning against her door with a twitchy smile forming on her face.

"That's a darling jacket, Evans." He smirked, taking in her windswept appearance. Her thick red hair was swept up into a messy ponytail, most of it now hanging around her face. Her eyes were wide with surprise. Their dark green color, reflecting the green peacoat she had thrown on quickly this morning over dark blue jeans.

"You're more difficult to track down than I had first imagined. Not submitting a Wizarding address – why, that's illegal now for Muggle borns, don't you know?" He quirked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows at her obvious discomfort. She'd stopped messing with her keys and stood tragically still. She might as well have been petrified. But her mind was working overdrive. _How in the hell had he found her? _

"Don't worry, I didn't turn you in. Your secret's safe with me." He continued, unperturbed by her silence. "Shall we see this cute little flat you've invested in? James might not care, but I sure am interested in the life you've created."

"Wha?" Lily's eyes flickered form the man to her door, innocent and locked.

"Here give me your keys." Lily clutched them tighter and turned quickly, leaving Peter behind her. All in vain, she knew as he grabbed a hold of her arm and dragged her back to the door of her flat.

"Get off me! And get out!" She pushed back; still all in vain as he was much bigger than her. His pudgy fat had turned more to a solid muscle. She had never found Peter more terrifying then when he was wrestling her to peace.

"Now, now Evans. This is for your own good. Sirius sent me to find you. He's worried about –"

"He wants his money back. I get it. I've almost got it."

"Actually, its nothing to do with you really. You see, James is _our_ best mate and he's been basically suicidal since you left--"

"Since I left? Me? _I_ left?" Lily glared up at Peter.

"Well, I don't recall you graduating." Peter chimed in, consciously uncaring of her feelings. He finally grasped her keys and jammed them into the lock. Lily huffed in frustration and hit Peter over the head with her purse.

"Listen, Evans, I know you've had it rough – being perceived as a whore. Losing James and the rest of the population's respect," Lily choked in shock. Was Peter so dense to assume that she had left Hogwarts because of a few – well a few hundred – hateful jeers? "But right now, I think you need to get off your high horse and realize that James needs you. Yeah. He wants you back. Or at least that's what we think he needs. He doesn't really vocalize much anymore. Just kinda a blob. Hmm" Peter trailed off.

Lily was furious. Here Peter Pettigrew, the fat, stocky _nothing_ from Hogwarts had just manhandled her into her _own_ apartment and was now explaining to her that _James _of all the putrid people needed her – but wouldn't own up to it. Her day had been the greatest.

"Peter. Get out." Her icy tone just made Peter smirk.

"Not likely." He quipped, selecting a seat on the couch and rifling through a magazine. Seemingly making himself at home. "This is a desperate matter Lily. We're worried about his health. I like your pillows, are they duck?" Lily was astonished.

"Wha? They sent _you_ to get me to take that idiot back? If you haven't realized _Peter_, I just got my life in order. And I don't have enough time in the day to worry about your loser-friend who decided to end our relationship because of money and posterity. He made the decision and he can settle the consequences. I'm through with him. I can die happy knowing that I'll never see his pathetic face again. He got what he wanted. He made a fool of me when I had been nothing but loyal. A right _fool_!"

"Yes, yes, we understand. You didn't cheat. But that's not why I'm here. I'm here on a plea—"

"Oh, is that what you call it? Assaulting me and breaking into my apartment and telling me that I need to suck it up and climb back down the hellish tunnel I finally just freed myself from! Well you can go to hell."

"You are sooo bitchy." Peter groaned, rubbing his temples. "And 'assault' is too strong a word. I'm sure you've let men do worse." He grinned.

"If you won't leave. I will." Lily grabbed her car keys from her purse – grateful now that she didn't bother to connect them to the house keys -- and marched out the door, slamming it in Peter's exasperated face. She could hear him yelling profanities at her through the door.

"LILY!" He was getting closer; she hustled down the stairs, jumping the last few and flew out the door, eager to climb back into her sanctuary and drive, drive, drive. She'd just barely climbed in and locked the door before Peter was banging on her car door window, red faced. She grinned impishly up at him and put her car in reverse. Leaving an irate and defeated Peter Pettigrew in her parking lot – her house keys shining in his hand.

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please review. always appreciated.


	6. Enough For Now

just my ideas.

A/N: yes, its been some time, hope you do enjoy.

REVIEW and I might be quicker, Its break, so now's the time to write!

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From the last chapter: _"Wha? They sent you to get me to take him back? If you hadn't realized Peter, I just got my life back in order. And I don't have enough time in the day to worry about your loser-friend who decided to end our relationship because of money and posterity. He made the decision and he can settle the consequences. I'm through with him."_

_

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_

Destruction of the Intangible: Enough For Now

Abarraine. 31 December 2009.

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_It's a Shame, but It's Your Honor_

_Take it on your shoulder 'til you can find another. _

James was still sitting in shock when Sirius stumbled in later that night, smelling of liquor and cigarette smoke. It seemed James wasn't the only one stuck in the past. Things hadn't changed much in the last year. Sure, they'd all graduated Hogwarts, somehow James had held onto the position of Head Boy despite his utter lack of effort, motivation or really, existence. The moment he realized that Lily had left, his walls, everything he believed to be a reason for punishing Lily had fallen apart. He had seen abruptly that all he believed was the poison of pride. He'd been weak and ridiculous. Using others as an excuse for pushing Lily away. Now, as it had then, the truth shown like a beacon of light in the dark neglect. Had he only listened to Sirius and if he had only followed his heart, she would still be there – here – in his arms. He'd be drinking coffee across from her and thinking life was pretty damn amazing. They'd probably be engaged by now, planning a big, illustrious wedding. Forcing Petunia into a bridesmaid dress. Her da would walk—

James' breath caught in his throat. The letter lay pathetically on the table next to his cold cup of coffee. Even if she were still with him, things wouldn't be the same. He had found out through the grapevine (Sirius) that she left because her da was on the edge of death and her stepmother had written for her to come home, come home quick. But why wasn't she living with her stepmother, her sister? Where had she gone and why? That always plagued James. He had searched high and low for Lily, but never came across any leads. How could he be a wizard with all the powers and glories, but still fail to use them to any real purpose? Hell, he spent his days _writing_ falsities for a nation-wide newspaper. His life was pointless, wasted. What _had_ he done! What had he become?

And now, here it was. Proof that she was still alive. God damn proof that _Sirius _had known all along that she was alive – hell, he had loaned her money to stay alive!

There was a new fire in his eyes and as he glared up at Sirius, something burned alive that he hadn't felt since he had touched Lily. Without a breath's notice, James rammed into Sirius and jumped him to the floor with a deafening collide of limbs and chairs. Sirius' surprised yell turned into rage as James let his fists fly, battering his best mate with all the betrayal and fire he felt. He screamed profanities at Sirius, his knuckles turning bloody. Sirius blocked blows and struggled to resist his friend. He lunged his fist and connected solidly to James' jaw, unsteadying him and giving Sirius enough time to switch positions and pin James to the linoleum floor.

"What the fuck, James!" Sirius swore, blood dripping from his nose, breath heavy. He watched his best mate grunt and push, making swipe after swipe at his face. Sirius leaned heavily onto James, pinning him firmly to the ground, stifling his struggle. It was then, in the almost quiet peace that fell, that he realized James was sobbing. His glasses had been knocked loose and his dark eyes held so much pain that Sirius struggled not to release James from his confines. The emotion in James was such that Sirius had never seen before, not even when Lily had left. In fact, James had been devoid of most any emotion expect apathy for the last fourteen months. To say that he was shocked would be too limited. Sirius was horrified.

"James? What is it, mate?" James continued to glare at Sirius with a hatred that he only allowed for his enemies.

"I trusted you, Sirius. I gave you everything you needed. And this is…" James choked, "this is how you repay me? You backstabber" James' voice was hardly above a whisper. It sent a chill down Sirius' spine.

"What? What did I do?" Sirius' frowned, fear rather than anger spreading through his chest.

"Lily."

_That's enough for now, I should have never have left you broken, I should have held you. That's enough for now._

Sirius sagged off of James and into the cabinet. His head went between his knees. He couldn't look at James, but he could feel the burning of James' eyes. His choices always held the consequences he was too proud to consult. He knew that one day he'd come face to face with James and he knew that it would be a defining moment in their friendship.

Sirius had helped Lily without telling James. He knew, knew that James would be torn apart by the mere disappearance of Lily and couldn't be bothered with more pain of actually _knowing _where she was and that she refused to speak to him. Sirius' eyes burned as he remembered their first meeting, just three weeks after her vague departure from Hogwarts. They had met at a small Muggle pub in London. She'd owled him late the evening before, simply saying that her pride was robbed, she needed help; do not send James.

When he'd met her the next day, she was emaciated, pale and pathetic. Her hands were cold when he reached out to her as she told Sirius her story, but all her emotion was stolen. She cried no tears and her voice never alternated beyond the monotone. Several times she stopped mid-sentence and focused on an area of the pub with determined patience. Her eyes were glazed in a way that horrified Sirius, but her story pulled his heart to her.

She told him that she'd been living on and off with graduated mates, some muggle, some Wizarding. She needed money for an apartment until her sister sent the settlement check, money that she would pay back, as fast as she could. She didn't know whom else to come to. Sirius' heart constricted. Here he was, sitting across from the love of James' life, the one person who could heal his desperate depression and yet, there were no words, no act sincere enough to rekindle their relationship. He knew now that he should have grabbed her, forced her back into James' life, but he'd channeled Remus and knew that James and Lily, despite the circumstances, would somehow find a way to fix their problems on their own terms. They had a love that could overcome anything.

So what happens now, Sirius thought, leaning his head against the cabinet, drawn into his thoughts and away from his raging best friend. _Do I spill all that Lily has kept confident with me? Or do I lose my best friend, my brother?_ For Sirius, the simple question, was, rather simple. He'd send Pete to do the dirty work and in the mean time, calm down James Potter.

A reunion was in store.

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please review. happy new year!


	7. Life Left to Go

I don't own the overaching plotline and characters.

Recap: James might actually take some action. So might Lily. perhaps.

A/N: REVIEW. please.

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**Chapter 8: Life Left to Go**

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_And I knew that the lights of the city were too heavenly for me. And I saw God cry in the reflection of my enemies and all the lovers with no time for me, and all of the mothers raise their babies, stay away from me. And pray that they won't grow up to be…[Golden, Fall Out Boy]_

"So you're telling me that some bloke turned up at your flat yesterday and accosted you – but that he's actually the best mate of that bastard you dated at Hogwarts?"

"Mmhmm. And he told me that it was my fault that James is so, erm… depressed."

The girls exchanged looks of incredulity before sipping on their drafts. The night was winding down, but neither felt the urge to pay their tab and head off home. Lily was still a bit hesitant to go back to her flat, not knowing if she'd have another unwanted visitor.

"You must have meant a lot to him." Emma declared after mulling over the idea of this strange reoccurrence in Lily's life. Emma had been mates with Lily since kindergarten. They'd grown up backyards apart and spent their holidays with one another, telling tales of old and events of now. Emma had seen the ups and downs of Lily's dating career, and Lily, Emma's. They had both shared their first alcoholic beverage together at the age of fourteen during the dimming twilight of a summer night. They had traveled Europe's distance once or twice, teasing Italian boys and leaving Norwegians hungry for more.

But that was during their teenage years.

The last year had been one of change and resentfully, maturity. Emma had graduated and was attending Oxford University for business and finance. She was often busy with presentations and her job at the bank.

Lily on the other hand had all but disappeared after the death of her father. To be frank, she wasn't sure how she made it through the months that had followed. Only last month did Lily phone Emma again. Emma was all too relieved to hear from Lily and immediately made plans to reconnect.

This was Lily's first step toward the path of recovery. And she couldn't help but feel that with Peter's visit, she was taking huge leaps backwards.

She scoffed at Emma's remark. _Meant a lot to him?_ "That's bullocks Em, and you know it. He probably just feels – dammit. I don't understand. He's the one that told me I was a whore. That I didn't belong and he didn't want anything to do with me. My father had died. Aren't I supposed to be the one who's suicidal and pining for my _lost_ love back?"

"So you're a cold-hearted bitch. Better than a soft tart who can't move on." Lily nodded profusely, but a cold hand had grabbed at her stomach and left it full of butterflies. She'd carefully tucked all those feelings inside for a year now. Ripping them open like this? It would only prove catastrophic.

"True. True." Lily mumbled.

"Look Lily," Emma set down her draft, swiveled the bar stool and looked Lily in the eye. "this may be harsh, but it's for your own good: get the hell out of Tottingham before he can find you again-"

"Wha?" Lily choked, feeling the sting of beer in her throat.

"Get out of here before he reopens your heart. Its been bloody terrible watching you fight off the past. I think you should either leave now or…"

"Or slide back." Lily finished. She knew. Oh yes she knew what it meant. What Peter had meant. His actions were one sided, they were focused on helping James, and Lily knew that if she opened up again, if she dug back into the past, she might not make it back out.

"Leave? But where would I go? Who would I know?" Emma looked at her sympathetically, "I feel like that's all I've done lately, is move. Start over. Maybe…"

"No."

"Hear me out."

"No." Emma shook her head, deadpanned.

"Maybe I need to finish it before I can officially move on"

"Can of worms"

"But I never said goodbye." Lily pleaded.

"Fuck no."

"What if he does something to himself… I don't want to be the one blamed-"

"You'd only be blaming yourself." Emma reasoned.

"You don't understand Emma. That was my life. Hogwarts was the life I knew after Mum passed. The boys held me together; I learned how to live again through them. James was my best mate. He would have given anything for me. We were meant to be. God that sounds sappy."

"Then you explain it to me, Ev. Why did he break up with you? And so violently?"

"Because…" Lily looked around the pub. There was a group of rowdy men in the back, hitting on a waitress. A game of billiards was in full rage in the other corner. Other than that, it was a lonely Wednesday night.

She was too skinny. Her hair had no bounce. Her shoes were scuffed and her nails were broken beyond repair.

Lily was disgusted with herself. She hardly looked in the mirror these days and every now and then she'd see Emma giving her sympathetic glances. Lily had all but disregarded her life. Refused to speak of her ten-month disappearance and all the empty vodka bottles in the closet.

She had never dug into the reasons of James' refusal. It was too burdened with emotion; from her father's death to her step-mother kicking her out. There was just too much pain. She struggled to down the last of her beer before looking back at Emma.

"Because there's more to the Wizarding world than I've told you." Emma's eyes narrowed and a wrinkle appeared between them. "Society, in essence, is a very intricate mess. You wouldn't expect the Prime Minister to fall in love with the trailer trash of the country would you?" Emma sputtered, about to protest when Lily shushed her. "Well, that's basically the same difference in the Wizarding world. What you call blood status. Its all but dissipated in this society. But well, James is high … royalty, per say. And I'm from a … well, non-blood class and to top it off, I had scholarships. I believe he dumped me because there was no where else for us to go after graduation."

"That's horrendous" Emma muttered, anger burning in her chest for her friend's hardships. Anger towards a man – and a society – that she had never even known.

"That's life, Em."

"Fuck it."

"I intend to." The girls exchanged pained grins and motioned for the barmaster. Time to go home.

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"No regrets. That's been my intention from the start of this." James muttered as he crunched through the gravel parking lot of a menial flat association. The buildings were simple, but neatly kept. They were a pale yellow and reflected the dying sun. The air was tainted with the smell of barbeque and a summer sweetness that James hadn't known for some time. (It had been quite a while since he'd stepped foot outdoors)

Cars zoomed to his left and the grass was green and bold on his right. If this was where Lily had ended up, it was a nice change from the pain and coldness the Wizarding world had taken on. The spread of Voldemort's order had risen and the fear wafted throughout all factions of society. The ministry was rotting from the inside out. The businesses were struggling with debt and inflation and people were afraid to go out. The hospitals were inundated with the injured and accursed. And the propaganda, the promises, the black faith that was emanating plagued his soul more than he realized as he gazed at the prim houses of Muggle Tottingham.

Life seemed neat and orderly, lovely and full of hope, joy and cheer. Maybe finding Lily and dragging her back wasn't the best thing to do. Especially with the restrictions being applied to all the Muggleborns.

"No regrets" he muttered once more to himself. He reached the yellow buildings and went to the door, pulled at it, but it refused to budge. He groaned, forgetting the intricate safety devices used by the Muggles. With a slight smirk, he praised their wit. If only magical people weren't quite so lazy they might have been able to counter the new propaganda and order that Voldemort intended to persevere with.

"Alohamora" He muttered and with a satisfying _click_ the door opened, admitting him into a corridor of champagne-colored carpet and a set of stairs. _304_, he thought, and headed up the carpeted stairs, noticing that the neatness that exuded outside permeated the inside.

He found 304 without any difficulty. It was at the end of the hall. A peep-hole was in the door and the silver numbers hung orderly on the wall beside the dark door. There was a floor mat that read "¡Bienvenidos!" and he continued to smirk, feeling more alive with every breath he took. He was so close.

So close to regaining everything he had let go of at the idiotic age of eighteen. It was a dramatic moment and he did everything he could to breath and stay focused on his intentions.

He had been so very angry when he had found her letter. Perhaps more angry at the fact that she was well and doing better than him than he was angry at Sirius. His anger only really dissipated when Peter had returned, informing him of her whereabouts. There was a chill to the excitement he felt. One of foreboding and unease. He knew the reunion would be unexpected and endured with a heavy heart.

She had no reason to forgive him and in fact, it had taken him a good two weeks to work up the courage to visit her. To return to the old James Potter. His stomach ached as he thought of his past. Of the colorful moments with her.

Her smile and the dimples that popped. The way her hair fell down her back and how it blew in the breeze during all her wanderings about the castle and grounds. He remembered her furious glances as they rushed through the castle, intent on putting a stop to his childish antics. How she shivered under his touch. How smooth the skin on her neck was. The scent of her sweat….

… He shuddered and slid against the wall adjacent from room 304. _No regrets_.

_Do you know where your heart is. Do you think you can find it. Did you trade it for something, somewhere_

_Do you know where your love is. Do you think that you lost it. You felt it so strong but nothing's turned out how you want it. _

His head was heavy, his breath suffered as he struggled to find it. The horror in her eyes burned behind his eyelids. His heart pounded and his hands were slippery in their grasp. He wanted to vomit. He wanted a drink. He wanted to curl up and slip away.

_Well bless my soul, you're a lonely soul cause you won't let go of anything you hope._

What if she wouldn't take him back?

What if she rejected him as he had done her?

What if he'd lost the only thing worth living for?

_And all I need is the air I breathe and a place to rest my head [OneRepublic]_

_

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review if you'd like me to continue. cheers._


	8. Royal Cities in the Air

Disclaimer: Here's to JKR.

A/N: sorry for the incredible wait. you're terrific for reading anyway. I suggest start from the beginning and review? thanks all.

also, I wanted to post, so my editing is lazy. sorry.

2. December 2011. Well. It comes to a head.

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_In the Royal City I fell into a trance. Oh it's hell to believe there ain't a hell of a chance._

"We'll carpool, catch a cab to Sutton-on-East, probably drink too much, enjoy some dirty flirting, dance more than med-medically recommended and then, fall asleep in some shit dump, utterly shit-faced!" Effy gasped. Lily grinned from ear-to-ear, enjoying the postulations of their to-be-Friday night.

"Brill, utter brill, Eff" Lily laughed, her feet took the next left as her mind continued to envision their hell-bent Friday night. Their route was relatively the same every day, a mile south to the city park to get onto the trailhead that ran for another thirty plus miles, but Effy and Lily only took it about 3 or 4 miles, before heading back into town. They were on their last leg, barely a tenth of a mile left and feeling that all-controlling "runners' high".

"Beat you—" Effy hollered as she sped up, toes just nipping the ground as they ran. Lily's grin expanded and she upped the ante, passing Effy with ease. Lily rounded the corner, sprinting for dear life, legs a blur to the eye and red-faced as Christmas. She slammed into the apartment building door, throwing it open with too much gusto that it bounced against the wall and rebounded before Effy could grab hold and follow Lily's example. Lily's grin doubled.

Lily's feet pounded up the stairs, three flights, thighs burning. Her breath ragged and her shins protested, but she heard Effy behind her and kept going. Going, going, going. She was good at running. Probably the best thing she was capable of. She'd been running for a good year now – running from her life.

As Lily rounded the last bend in the staircase and launched over the last step, admitting her to the third floor, she caught a figure in front of her door and stopped just short of a heart attack.

Her heart pounded_. Thump. Thump. Thump._

Her breath stopped. Silence.

Her legs were frozen, just over the threshold of the third floor.

And her eyes burned. Sweat dripped over her lids, salt pooling. And she still stared. Heart stalled.

He stared back, eyes wide with shock.

Then his foot came forward. Then another. Lily's mind was suddenly hit with a full on 'retreat! retreat!' and found herself flying back down the stairs she had just launched up. She met Effy sitting on the second floor landing, Lily grabbed her hand and continued her race down the stairs. James, too, had picked up his pace. Dejá Vu anyone?

"Lily! Stop! Please!" He yelled as she struggled to rip the apartment building door back open, allowing her freedom to expand out into the parking lot – which smelled like mowed grass and barbeque. His voice changed the world just then. All turned gray. All the smell evaporated. This wasn't happening. No, not now. She registered only one action: run.

Effy struggled out of her grasp and planted herself in front of the apartment's entrance door, intent on blocking the man from perusing Lily. But Lily was unaware as she continued to sprint; she couldn't feel her legs anymore, just the pain in her heart. Her breath had stopped and she wasn't sure if it'd started up again. She heard the altercation behind her and knew there was no stopping him. She'd have to apparate in order to get away from him. The trouble with that was the Ministry's tracking of Muggle-born action. The fact that she'd still not been forced to sign the Ministry's Muggle-born Notification and Tracking of Magic Act was because she had refused to even pick up her wand. It lay in her bedside table, dusty and pathetic.

_Shit._ Lily thought as she drew to a stop. She'd made it to the busy intersection of Holmes and Eowen. With nowhere to turn, except back. Glaring at the cars speeding past. She heard the pounding of his feet before his voice. He was saying her name, ruggedly, as though he were out of shape. _Unthinkable_, Lily scowled.

She knew he was behind her now. His breath was indeed fast and rough. But she refused to turn around. The traffic slowed to a point where she was able to cross Eowen.

"Hear me out". Now she knew for sure she hadn't resumed breathing and gulped in a deep breath, her hands flying to her stomach as she hunched over. Completely absorbed by James Potter's presence, just feet behind her. The pounding in her head took on words, screaming for her to flee. _Get away, save yourself!_

But she'd already fought those thoughts, months and months of inner conversations had raged where she thought she'd go insane. Where the alcohol and pain meshed and scattered days at a time. She'd fought this battle once, in her mind. Now she just had to fight it for real.

She stood, hands still gripping her waist as her lungs constricted and her heart hammered out of her chest. Her eyes landed on his chest before she angled her head up, onto his face and finally into his eyes.

There they locked.

She couldn't put to words what she found in his eyes.

He couldn't form a coherent sentence.

She found a myriad of emotions, just locked inside those hazel orbs.

The image of her finally in front of him stopped him dead.

It shouldn't have hurt this much.

It was just a simple teenage love.

When had it become more?

James sputtered, coughed and choked. Lily found her breath, finally filling her lungs.

"I… uh…" sputter. Cough. "Lil- I…" His eyes left her and landed on her shoes. "Regret everythi—" choke. His eyes traveled on her green ones and he lost it. He closed the gap between them faster than thought could form and his arms had pulled her as close as was possible. His hand grabbed at the nape of her neck while the other wound around her back. His nostrils filled with her scent, so salty. And he cried.

Lily's own arms found their way around him, but her mind was blank. Her eyes open and yet, all she could see was the blackness. She knew it was his shirt, but it did an unbelievable representation of her emotions. He shook under her arms.

She wanted to pull away but the man shaking held her tightly, so she gave in and allowed him at least some semblance of healing. God knows he needed it more than she.

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_It's a Bible for a bullet they put over your heart. It's getting harder and harder to tell them apart. _

The way back to her apartment was much more calm. James walked uneasily beside her as she led them up the stairs and into her flat. She was a mess of emotions, with one screaming at her above the rest: anger.

It always seemed to come back to that same triggered response. Why had their relationship fallen apart and most importantly, why did it still have such a tragic impact on them both? Realistically – logically – it was a simple teenage romance filled with its prejudices and misconceptions but that should have been it. People were meant to get their hearts broken, wasn't that where the phrase "the first cut is the deepest" had come from?

The man next to her should have gotten over her. Should have been involved in a rebound romance and now currently dating some attractive lawyer or what have you. He was as strong as they came. Raised to put intelligence before passion. Ambition before commitment. She glanced a look in his direction as he stood awkwardly (and ridiculously) out of place in her eclectic apartment. His clothes, no longer crisp, but still looking affluent made her green couch look like something found in a consignment shop. And damn, she loved that couch more than James right now.

He cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair, the timeless tick a bit endearing. She returned to her task at hand: tea and put the kettle on the stove to boil. She could feel his eyebrows raise behind her as she did all this without an ounce of magic.

"We were seventeen, James. Seventeen is too young to understand the world. It's too young for us to… to know what love is." Lily turned her hips, resting them against the counter and finally facing him. She looked for something to fiddle with, but came up empty. He gazed at her with longing.

"That's a lie." He uttered.

"No, James, it's... it's what it is."

"Don't you believe it was more?" She heard the terror in his voice.

"Sure… it seemed like it was the end-all, but, but it wasn't. I mean, it just can't be. Love doesn't just choose one and call it the end. We do that, James. And-" She stopped as she finally rested her gaze on him. He no longer looked out of place; in fact he fit rather perfectly against the background of her apartment. Her furniture was second-hand, lovingly tended to. Pillows of every color and size filled the couch and chair. The coffee table was covered in magazines, mostly Muggle except for the Daily Prophet. The fireplace was charming with a mantle decorated with picture frames, candles and oddities from her travels. And there was James; stock-still with the most worn and wounded expression she had ever seen. The most tragic part was that it looked as though he'd lived with that worn mask for too long; it was becoming a part of him.

She was no stranger to that mask. It had been her own before she'd met the man gracing her living room.

"How are you, James?" Her voice was small, but held a quality of compassion. He couldn't meet her gaze and rather continued his assessment of her flat. His eyes landing on the DP sitting on her coffee table, his article face up. She followed his gaze, sighing.

"They're really limiting your voice, aren't they? The Prophet?" He leaned over and grabbed the paper off the table and stared at his picture next to the article. She had known everything about him the whole time. Where he was (Sirius), where he worked, and yet never had she come back to him.

His mind fuzzed. She'd truly left him behind. His nightmares, his depression – had she felt none of it? And yet, he knew she had. She was simply stronger than him.

Less naïve?

His gaze snapped to her face, her jaw clenched and eyes bright with tears. The fortitude exuding was nothing new. No, she'd just become Lily. Nothing more, nothing less.

_Now he twists indecision, takes bourbon for the rage. In darkness he looks for the light that has died. The future descending like a bright chandelier._

_But you need your faith for the same reason that it's so hard to find. In the ones that he loved, in the ones that he kissed._

_And this whole thing is headed for a terrible wreck, like a good tragedy that's what we expect._

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review? thanks!


	9. Talking in Code

28 February 2012.

All rights reserved to JK Rowling.

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What does James have to say?

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_These words might be a little too late_  
_and I'm afraid I have already lost you._

"I should go." He'd hardly muttered before he was on his feet, throwing the Prophet on the coffee table. The force wasn't behind it as he had anticipated, instead it tumbled off the side of the table, folded and forgotten.

"Right" Lily muttered, watching James' erratic movements with a clinical eye. He was stiff and busy as though trying everything in his power to extricate himself from his current position. This wasn't how she'd imagined their reunion. For one, she imagined herself hopelessly in love with another man, someone much more gentle than James. She would be happily married, perhaps a mother – she'd imagined herself stuttering and smiling until her husband would wrap his arm around her waist and introduce himself to James, ever the bigger man. Then James would glare – as par usual – and puff up his chest and make some smart aleck comment that would only further justify that their split had been more than right, but utterly predicted. This, however, was not anything like her imagined theory. First off, where was that gentle husband of hers? And why hadn't she made more of an effort to date! But really, where was the James that was too cocky to even admit failure?

This bumbling man in front of her was a tragic excuse of her long lost lover. In fact, despite the resemblance, he wasn't James at all. She caught his arm as he finished pulling on his cloak, jolting him into near asphyxiation. She bit her lip and caught his gaze.

"You can't leave yet." Her grip stayed as he nodded once. He didn't remove his cloak, but turned to face her. Her mind flew into motion as she took in his stature, still unbelievably tall and proud, but now the pride was a weight on his shoulders. No matter the pain she felt as it tore her heart into pieces, she knew 'to forgive and to forget' was more than just her mother's favorite phrase, it was a function of life and more so, healing.

The realization stole any other thoughts and she was focused on closing the fissure that had developed between her and this man – this man that had morphed her once gray world into something full of life and beauty. This was her chance to repay her debt. If she could look at it objectively and not allow herself to dwell on her pain, then maybe they'd be able to both move on and recover. Because God knows that this heartbreak must end.

"I'm drained. Grab some coffee with me?" Lily spoke, forcing her voice to be cheerful and ambivalent. "Do you mind if I shower first?"

"Be my guest." James shrugged, padding over to the couch and fishing for the Daily Prophet.

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"Latte with three sugars, please. And a blueberry muffin." Lily ordered at the counter, James had already made his purchase and chosen a table near the window of the local café. He seemed to be extremely interested in the cars stopping at the light, before they proceeded onward in their daily journeys. His coffee was finished when Lily received her receipt and she brought it to him. She dropped in to the chair opposite him and smiled lightly. Her hands finally settling as they clasped each another.

"If you want cream or sugar, it's over there." Lily pointed to a station filled with a plethora of sugar-free sugar substitutes, stirring sticks and milks. James shook his head and went to sip his black.

"So, I um." She blew the air out of her lungs and looked back at James. "I want to apologize for running away-"

"Today?" He muttered, setting his mug down. Lily paused and nodded. Yes, today she'd ran from him, but that wasn't the only time. She'd made a run for it that horrid December when her whole world crashed down.

"Sure, today." She followed still nodding. A barista brought over her latte and muffin and glanced at James before telling Lily about butter being at the sugar bar. As the barista walked away, Lily would have bet her month's paycheck that rhythm in her hips was not her normal walk.

"Are you really looking for an apology from me, James." Lily asked, hostility edging her words as her thoughts revolved around that Christmas and the barista's size two ass.

"Actually," Lily met his eyes and finally found herself looking at the usual James. Not the shell she'd had to tote around the last hour. "I'd be an ass to assume I'd get as much – but well, frankly I don't know what to say. I thought I knew, but now, with you –" His words turned to mutters and Lily sighed, taking a sip of her latte. It was terrible. Or maybe she just imagined she'd picked up a beer and not some awful sugar stimulant.

"We should have gone to the pub." Lily muttered her thoughts as the sun shed light on their quaint table. James chuckled his agreement. "I don't know what I was thinking. This kind of mind-fucking deserves intoxication."

"I think maybe if we make it though this, we could get a lager the next time. " James replied, smirking lightly as he went for another taste of his black coffee.

"Forget the lager, Potter, I want something that'll put hair on my chest." Lily joked, finding a natural rhythm in discussing something abstract rather than their tattered hearts and swallowed pride.

"As attractive as that image could be-"

"Let's not." Lily finished. "So, I've read your articles, they seem to be popular. Cheers." Lily raised her mug at James. He grimaced in return, as she'd predicted.

"It's a load of bullocks. There're so many regulations now that I can't even claim literary license about the truth now. Allusions, even historical accounts are cut from my articles. I almost feel as though I'm working for _his_ campaign than against it, you know? My articles are being misconstrued for propaganda."

"They are not." Lily replied. "There's always been a bit of crazed rebel in your words and they can't remove that. I find sarcasm to be my best defense."

James nodded, running a hand through his hair. It was shorter than she'd remembered, but then, she wasn't staring at the eighteen-year-old James anymore. But she'd been over this in her mind more than the healthy amount today.

"I'm lucky to still be employed I suppose. There's some comfort in that. I need another cup." He remarked before standing.

"James-" Lily stopped him. She couldn't sit still anymore. "James, I –" He was frozen in front of her with a gaze that tore through her heart. "What is it? Why are we doing this?" She pled. He slowly sank back into his seat, eyes never leaving her face.

_I gotta go and you're talking in code. Saying I know where you've been and I know where you go. But I've been tired from the minute I woke, I've stopped listening the moment you spoke and said I'm long gone. Yea, I'm long gone._

They stared, the words materializing before them but never spoken. Losing themselves to the structure of their thoughts, the would haves and what ifs; the justifications and validations.

"We're long gone. They made sure of that." Lily finally muttered, standing so fast the table shook. Having already paid and suddenly feeling the café suffocating, quickly threw herself through the door. The bell chime overtaken by the slam the door made as it rebounded against the wall.

If ever Lily was good at something, it was running.


End file.
